| 13 MILES
|
|
| SCENE 1:
|
| FADE IN:
|
| BOBBERS and CLIFF-DOG are sitting on a couch and lay-z-boy
| respectively, watching tv. Sound of title song of
| “Somewhere, Tomorrow,” at end of movie heard.
| Bobbers jumps up.
|
| BOBBERS
| Cheese muffins! What is this treacle
| tripe!
|
| Cliff-dog uses remote to check the channel guide.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Somewhere, tomorrow. Sarah Jessica
| Parker, 1983.
|
| Cliff-dog tosses Bobbers the remote, he throws it down.
|
| BOBBERS
| DAMN YOU TELEVISION!
|
| Simple comes out, approaches the camera.
|
| SIMPLE
| That’s Bobbers for you. He’s an excitable
| one. Cliff-dog, he’s… not. I, I
| am Simple, I’m your guide.
|
| BOBBERS
| This bag of chips tastes bad! Probably
| cause I’m eating from the bottom.
|
| Bobbers scrunches up the bag, opened on the bottom edge.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Yes, because flavor, as we know, is
| effected by gravity. And the chips
| on the bottom have the most flavor…
| Now, if you eat the bottom ones first,
| as you did, then when you get to the
| much less-flavorful top, now-bottom
| chips, they will taste even worse,
| cause you’re full on flavorful chips,
| and not only have you a better chip
| to compare any chip to, you’re also
| less hungry. And as we all know,
| hunger is the best pickle, as said
| Benjamin Franklin. And in case you
| didn’t know, pickles are supposed
| to add flavor to a meal in that they
| themselves are very flavorful, thanks
| to the pickling, and in those days
| refrigeration wasn’t what it is now,
| and pickling and salting were the
| only ways to go for preserving the
| flavor as well as probably whatever
| it is getting pickled or salted in
| the first place.
|
| BOBBERS
| EAT ME!
|
| Throws bag at Cliff. Simple, turning his head to the two
| of them, yells.
|
| SIMPLE
| Shut up, smoke some more.
|
|
| SCENE 2:
|
| All three look at each other, wondering “should they?” Then
| in synch they move. Cliff-dog pulls out the weed from the
| seat-cushion. Bobbers reaches behind his couch for the bong.
| And Simple produces the lighter from his pocket. Bobbers blows
| out the ash from the bowl, over the edge of the couch. Cliff-
| dog smells, inspects, pulls off a nug with a twisting motion.
| Simple plays with the lighter, contemplating the flame. Bobbers
| gives Cliff-dog the bong in his waiting hand, Cliff-dog doesn’t
| even have to look up, he puts the nug in and licks his fingers,
| then reaches out with same hand for the lighter. He has to
| look up, and Simple then realizes and tosses him the lighter.
| Simple talks to the camera.
|
| SIMPLE
| Now, there are different ways to smoke
| weed.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| There’s an understatement.
|
| Simple turns to Cliff-dog, slightly annoyed.
|
| SIMPLE
| I’m sorry Cliff-dog would you like
| to tell the good people?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| With pleasure.
|
| Cliff-dog doesn’t realize the camera though, only Simple does,
| and so Cliff-dog talks to his buddies. But Simple often talks
| to the camera.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| But I don’t know if I consider you
| guys “good people.” No worse than
| I, I guess.
|
| Cliff-dog takes hit. He looks like he’s about to start, but
| he won’t give up his breath. Strained he speaks while trying
| to hold in.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Well, it’s all cultural…
|
| SIMPLE
| Sigh. Literally.
|
| He gets the bong.
|
| SIMPLE
| See, that’s the problem.
|
| Takes hit. Rounds continue.
|
| BOBBERS
| Why talk when you can smoke?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Why waste a good hit?
|
| SIMPLE
| Should we go no-cal?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| No, that’s so… solitary, not communal
| enough for my tastes.
|
| SIMPLE
| See, in northern California, where
| weed is less a diversion from life
| and more their way of life. Some
| families all get together and smoke
| like it’s sit-down dinner time, mom,
| dad, the kids…
|
| BOBBERS
| The dog, the cat, the turtle…
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| The family that blaze together, stays
| together.
|
| SIMPLE
| Anyway, that’s why it’s weird to me
| that they go bowl-by-bowl.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| That’s because some people when they
| get the bong they don’t want to let
| it go. It’s like how some people
| take longer to leave a parking space
| when they know someone else’s waiting
| for it. When you do rounds, there’s
| always some guy who hangs on to the
| bong after his hit, seemingly oblivious
| to everyone else.
|
| BOBBERS
| Damn bong hogs!
|
| SIMPLE
| But bong hogs are just as bad bowl-
| by-bowl--if not worse. They’ll take
| forever, waving it around like their
| scepter, king of the bong, using it
| to punctuate their many sentences.
| Since bong hogs also notorious conversation
| monopolisers as well.
|
| BOBBERS
| Damn conversation monopolisers!
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Rounds are good for that too, breaks
| up the conversation.
|
| SIMPLE
| Assuming they’re courteous enough
| to pass it on.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Further, it’s more weed efficient,
| I think, as you hold on to your hits
| longer, unless they’re chokers.
|
| BOBBERS
| Damn chokers!
|
| Bobbers chokes right then.
|
| BOBBERS
| What the hell are we talking about?
|
| They all laugh.
|
| SIMPLE
| I have no fucking clue.
|
| Time passes. In comes Steve.
|
| STEVE
| Hey.
|
| ALL
| Hey.
|
| Steve sits, packs, and smokes in quick deft motion. Sits
| back… Time passes. Steve jumps up quickly.
|
| STEVE
| What are we doing? What are we doing
| sitting here, smoking weed, wasting
| our lives away when there is an unharvested
| wealth of soft cushiony skin.
|
| SIMPLE
| That’s Steve, the romantic.
|
| STEVE
| It’s the turn of another century,
| do you understand the implications?
| Why, we’re teeming in cultural fears,
| and anxieties, and suppressions, and
| oppressions. There are women out
| there, wanting a new revolution, wanting
| men of action of ideas and freedom.
| We need to relocate first. We need
| to go to New York.
|
| BOBBERS
| Why?
|
| STEVE
| New York is Vienna, is Paris, is London,
| is Hate and Ashbury, is…
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| London? What London revolution?
|
| STEVE
| (agitated)
| Beatlemania, I don’t, who the, what?
|
| SIMPLE
| Steve hates getting derailed, that’s
| why we do it. Then again, sometimes
| its interesting to see how far his
| train gets before it derails itself.
|
| STEVE
| New York! New York, you won’t take
| me off my course. La Desmoiselles
| Avenon. Fuck 20th century, its 21st
| century. You get that? You, you
| can draw, yes?
|
| BOBBERS
| No.
|
| STEVE
| Simple, you can write, right?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Haha, sorry, no. Maybe one hell of
| a critical essay on Puncher and Wattman’s
| views of the auteur theory as it relates
| to the unified field theory.
|
| STEVE
| (pause)
| Simple, you know music.
|
| SIMPLE
| I can play like 4 songs on guitar?
| Well, five if you count “We will rock
| you” and “We are the champions” as two
| songs.
|
| STEVE
| Good, that’s all we need.
|
| SIMPLE
| …But I don’t even have a guitar.
|
| STEVE
| We’re going to do the same thing as
| the modern artists. We’re going to
| break rules. But what can we do?
|
| Musical number:
|
| STEVE
| What can we do?
| We’re all desensitized
| nothing is true
| there’s
| nothing sacred, nothing taboo,
| nothing but nothing, that’s
| what the po-mos do, but…
|
| We could smoke…
| A lot…
| Of…
|
| All four get together, out of the seat, holding paraphernalia.
|
| ALL
| WEED!
|
| They pantomime as oppropriate…
|
| Cliff-dog gets out paper, pen.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| I could design the props.
|
| Bobbers fakes sawing.
|
| BOBBERS
| I could saw some wood.
|
| Simple gets out his guitar.
|
| SIMPLE
| I could maybe write a song.
|
| STEVE
| Sure, I bet you could…
|
| Come on boys it won’t be hard
| Bobbers
| can be quite a card
| Simple here will be our bard
| Cliff-dog
| will be our star
|
| Cliff-dog happy.
|
| Well… Maybe not.
|
| Cliff-dog sad.
|
| Everybody let’s get started
| So we may still get carded
| We’re mature if light-hearted
|
|
| BOBBERS
| Hey, Steve, you farted.
|
|
| STEVE
| Shut up you, stupid pothead
|
| Barbershop style:
|
| ALL (BUT BOBBERS)
| You stupid pothead.
|
| STEVE
| Think about it, what they made
| Artists who played and got paid
| For sweatless effort in the shade
| And you know…
|
| ALL
| They all got laid.
|
| Dance around the room.
|
| ALL
| We could make a musical and make
| lots of money
| We could take
| our lives and exploit all that’s funny
| About our days and
| our nights, rainy, snowy, sunny
| Cause what we do all the time,
| and we do a tonny…
|
| One at a time, per word/syllable.
|
| ALL
| Is smoke the best green in all of Californie.
|
| They all collapse
| in seats. Work quickly as smoothly to get the weed packed.
| Time passes.
|
| BOBBERS
| I’m still not stoned.
|
| SIMPLE
| That’s the problem with the third
| time of the day--if you’re lucky enough
| to have one--it's by far the least
| weed economical. The amount you’d
| need to smoke eventually beats the
| amount you can. That’s when you need
| to actually deal with life.
| (to Bobbers)
| Alright, a joint, and then…
|
| STEVE
| A spliff?
|
| He gets dirty looks
|
| STEVE
| God-damn nicotine oppressors.
| (mocking)
| Oh cigarettes are bad for me, they
| can kill you…
| (making bong sound)
| I’m all natural. I eat granola and
| grow my own organic vegetables. Why
| don’t you get it over with and sacrifice
| your testicles to the Vegan gods.
| (gets tired)
| Fuck, I need a cigarette.
|
| Leaves to have cigarette.
|
| STEVE
| (as leaving)
| In New York they’ll accept me.
|
| Joint starts getting rolled.
|
| BOBBERS
| Dude, I don’t eat granola or vegetables.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Maybe he should get some fiber.
|
| SIMPLE
| No, he just needs to get laid.
| (beat)
| We all do, that was more than a musical
| number back there, that was a moment
| of clarity, for me at least. Chicks
| dig artists don’t they? I mean, it’s
| either that or bulk up because there’s
| no other group that’s cool and not
| muscular.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| That is a good point.
|
| BOBBERS
| Pot-heads aren’t cool?
|
| SIMPLE
| Sorry Bobbers.
|
| Steve enters, Simple lights and hands it to Steve.
|
| SIMPLE
| Steve, we’ll do it.
|
| STEVE
| Woohoo, alright, first step, move
| to New York.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Can’t we do LA, it’s so much closer.
| New York always seems so cold on TV.
|
| STEVE
| Yeah, but that’s pre-9-11. Now everyone
| is warm and friendly. It’s more than
| a catch-phrase it’s “the New York
| miracle.” And let’s face it, there’s
| the foreigner effect when it comes
| to the opposite sex.
|
| SIMPLE
| I think it takes come from another
| country with a deep throaty accent.
|
| STEVE
| Come on think about all those lonely
| urban girls surrounded by gays and
| dorky jewish guys.
|
| BOBBERS
| Hey!
|
| STEVE
| No offense. And I mean that to both
| halves you, even the half that’s wasp
| but still liberal.
| (beat)
| Now then, we ready to go?
|
| SIMPLE
| Alright now how are we going to get
| there?
|
| STEVE
| How expensive can a plane ride to
| New York be right now?
|
| SIMPLE
| Alright, well, I don’t need to be
| back to school until late September.
| And that’s only if I want to stay
| a 6th year and do another minor.
| Parents say its up to me.
|
| BOBBERS
| Have I mentioned lately how much I
| hate you?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| I got that MIT internship but that
| doesn’t start until… I don’t know
| sometime, somehow I always find out
| in time.
|
| BOBBERS
| Well, I ain’t got shit to do.
|
| STEVE
| Then lets do this, I don’t need my
| fucking starbucks job, I’m only doing
| it until something happens. And this
| can be it. Alright.
|
| SIMPLE
| K.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Sure.
|
| BOBBERS
| Whatever.
|
| STEVE
| Alright, then, let’s do this people!
|
| Long pause. Time passes.
|
| BOBBERS
| Can we get some motherfucking rap
| going?
|
| Cliff-dog gets up to start some gangsta rap, rap starts.
|
| STEVE
| You guys start with out me?
|
| SIMPLE
| What the fuck you think?
|
| Steve gets out the bong.
|
| STEVE
| Alright, after this, we needs to get
| started on this.
|
| More time passes.
|
|
| STEVE
| Um, Cliff--
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| --I knew it. Fuck you, I ain’t getting
| out of this motherfucking seat, you
| came up with the idea, you figure
| out how to do it Top Cat.
|
| SIMPLE
| Me neither.
|
| BOBBERS
| Shit, you know I ain’t.
|
| STEVE
| Come on guys, I can’t be Napoleon
| if you can’t be revolutionaries with
| me.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Napoleon wasn’t as lazy as you. You
| can’t really expect to fulfill your
| delusions of grandeur and megleomaniac
| desires and smoke the budda.
|
| SIMPLE
| Alright, now you all know I’m the
| lazy man here?
|
| All nod in agreement.
|
| SIMPLE
| But I am willing to do one thing.
| And that is anything, to get laid.
| Because, man, I don’t even remember
| what pussy tastes like.
|
| STEVE
| Still tastes like pussy.
|
| SIMPLE
| Dude, what movie was that?
|
| STEVE
| Um, shit, Fletch lives?
| (to cliff-dog)
| But the line was food, not pussy.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Ah, thanks. That makes much more
| sense.
|
| SIMPLE
| How about this, I’m willing to believe
| the artist gimmick, but the foreigner
| factor is negligible at best, I mean,
| maybe if we were from LA, but New
| Yorkers aren’t going to be impressed
| with us coming from…
| (beat)
| We are talking New York city, right?
|
| STEVE
| I think so, where ever Manhattan is.
| Or broadway, so-ho, whatever. Whereever
| the world trade center was… I don’t
| know around there. Shit, these are
| just logistics. Come on people forest
| for trees.
|
| SIMPLE
| Yeah, pussy, right. My idea, we’ll
| find some here, some actresses for
| our musical…
| (beat)
| Is that what we’re doing? And we
| talking stage or film?
|
| STEVE
| Dude logistics! Forests. Trees.
| Pussy.
|
| SIMPLE
| Right! We get the chicks first, and
| then take them with us. Women like
| men with destinations, and actresses
| probably are least sedimentary. So
| let’s get them first before we go
| through all the trouble of actually
| going 3000 miles when we can barely
| muster enough to get up to go to the
| bathroom.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Um, maybe we should actually write
| something before we start looking
| for actresses or booking tickets and
| theatres.
|
| BOBBERS
| Aaargh.
|
| Bobbers gets up and throws a pillow down. Bobbers gets agitated,
| Simple comes to his side, Bobbers shrugs him.
|
| SIMPLE
| The Jam! The Jam! Someone get The
| Jam.
|
| Cliff-dog leaves, cuts the music, finds two very similar kitties,
| and comes back with both in hand. Simple has a blanket over
| Bobbers, who seems like he is in shock. Simple offers Bobbers
| the bong, he shakes his head. Cliff-dog waits, then not sure
| which one to give, guesses and proffers one to Simple.
|
| SIMPLE
| No, that’s The Joint!
|
| He points to the other cat, the tag says
| “The Jam” (the other’s says “The Joint”).
|
| SIMPLE
| That’s The Jam. Quick, The Jam.
|
| Simple gives it to Bobbers, who immediately starts petting
| him, and calming slowly.
|
| Musical number, calm music comes
| in a la end of Deeez Nuuuts.
|
| BOBBERS
| What can I do?
| I… can’t be faded.
| I’m a half-jew from the
| mothefuckin suburbs
| I… can’t be faded.
|
| Rap beat.
|
| Now,
| I comes correct.
| When I say the effect
| On me of weed
| Be
| a bushel or a peck
| Is never more
| Than I can expect
| To be
| in store
| From what I recollect
| From before
| Which is never more,
| Than, let me check,
| After five maybe four
| Not days,
| hours, heck
| That is unless I’m poor
| Or at home wreck
| Though
| that I’d be, maybe, or
| Shit, what was I talking about?
|
| I still smoke it though
| And it’s still good
| I can’t be faded yo
| But it’s still good.
| My eyes journey mo’
| More than they should
| But still high, not low
| So, I’m still good.
|
| Maybe someday
| I’ll hit my limit
| Someday, there won’t
| Be no fun in it
| And then that day
| Maybe I’ll quit it
| But I’ll be high
| Till that last minute.
|
| Though, it is true…
| I… can’t be faded.
|
| I’m a half-jew from the mothefuckin suburbs
| I… can’t be faded.
|
| ALL BUT BOBBERS
| He’s a half-jew from the motherfuckin suburbs
|
| BOBBERS
| I… can’t be faded.
|
| X3, then Bobbers repeats his line after
| each of the next:
|
| SIMPLE
| Props to Nate Dogg and the rest of
| the west coast.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Cause the west, is the best, it’s
| a fact not a boast.
|
| STEVE
| I still prefer Dylan over songs about
| killin most.
|
| BOBBERS
| Lighten up Steve, it’s the same leaf
| that we toast.
|
| Last line:
|
| BOBBERS
| Smoke weed every day.
|
| Some more time passes. More weed is
| smoked. Bobbers is quite entertained by something on TV.
|
| BOBBERS
| Yes! That’s so awesome!
|
| STEVE
| Nobody gets this but you.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Well… On some level, if you believe
| that level.
|
| SIMPLE
| Eh, it’s as old as the concept of
| comedy.
|
| Another funny scene.
|
| BOBBERS
| Awesome.
|
| SIMPLE
| Okay, Steve, how do we get the women?
|
| STEVE
| Hmm?
|
| SIMPLE
| Get them, how do we get them?
|
| STEVE
| Shit if I knew that I wouldn’t be
| a hopeless romantic now would I?
|
| SIMPLE
| Yeah, but Cliff-dog’s right, we should
| get the women first, with the proviso
| of going to new york… Actually, getting
| women period would be nice.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| I’m ready for my getting-women period
| myself. Did I say that?
|
| SIMPLE
| What? That?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| What?
|
| SIMPLE
| You’re last sentence.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| I… think I know what you’re talking
| about. But I don’t think I said we
| should get women first, maybe some
| off-hand remark in the heat of indifference…
| Or… …
|
| STEVE
| Alright, I have a solution. I’m not
| a master at the art, in as much as
| I could some how use my craft in a
| sphere grater than myself. But I
| do know something about having a mindset.
| Like, get with some “clubbin’” guys
| and they get you thinking pack mentality,
| getting the confidence chicks dig,
| and the chicks are drawn to them because
| they’re the first on the dance floor
| and just ooze that attitude. Or something…
| Anyway, the other guys are… Um…
| Oh the other guys are a… a part…
|
| SIMPLE
| Of another mindest…
|
| STEVE
| Yes! The other guys, of another mindset…
| Well, come to think of it, they all
| have the same mindset, women are pussy.
| Pussy is good. Women like to give
| theirs, as much as we’d like to take
| theirs, and when we all get drunk
| who cares, right? Well, they get
| it, and it’s not because nor despite
| their misconceptions but because of
| their insensitivity, women drawn to
| bad imitations--rather, imitations
| of their bad father figures--like moths
| to flames.
|
| BOBBERS
| So we dress up like 50 year old men…
| And for the fun of it, we…
|
| Bobbers eyes roll back, his head falls back. Steve looks
| tempted to disturb him, cliff-dog looks ready to aid--but Simples
| steadies them both. Bobbers gets intense childlike joy, and
| slow smile goes across face. Cliff-dog is about to speak,
| but Simple implores him not to (non-verbally), and Cliff-dog
| finally relents. Steve just barely gets up like he’s going
| to do something to Bobbers, but Bobbers quickly and lucidly
| lifts his head up.
|
| BOBBERS
| Thank you for not disturbing my serenity.
| And for the fun of it, wear plaid
| and make cheesy golf jokes. Or wear
| x fashion faux pas fad era and make
| y nerdy recreational humor.
|
| STEVE
| …Anyway, I know a guy. Every time
| I go out with him, I get to the, to
| be vulgar…
|
| BOBBERS
| Pussy.
|
| STEVE
| Yes.
|
| SIMPLE
| Call him.
|
| STEVE
| Alright, but I don’t know, he’s not
| like charisma incarnate, he’s not
| like the charism figure.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| No, father figure right.
|
| STEVE
| Yes, exactly, and you’re trying to
| throw me off track, fine, try.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| No, I want to see this guy of yours.
|
| STEVE
| What guy?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| What?
|
| STEVE
| You said, uh…
|
| SIMPLE
| Oh for Christ’s sake!
|
| Simple picks up the cordless phone and throws it to him.
|
| STEVE
| Thanks, but I have it in my cell memory.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| DNA taking dictation that’s some memory
| impressive.
|
| Steve takes out his cell phone, looking quizzically at Cliff-
| dog. Bobbers is about to say something Steve quiets him down.
| Simple motions to Cliff-dog the vaporizer signal. Which is
| the right hand pantomiming holding a gun, barrel pointing down,
| and left hand pantomiming holding a tube to their mouth. Cliff-
| dog understands and gets the custom-made case out, puts it
| together with the precision of an assassin, and puff after
| puff of pure white vapor goes out. Sound of the heat-gun dominates
| the room, and Steve’s conversation is inaudible--Steve, of
| course, takes hits during pauses, though he is talking fervishly.
| They all seem pretty normal, then like a wave fading the sound
| goes out, but Cliff-dog comes across with perfect clarity.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| The great thing about vaporizing is
| the delayed, longer, stronger, arguably
| better high…
|
|
|
| Much later still.
|
| BOBBERS
| So… What did he say?
|
| STEVE
| Hmm?
|
| BOBBERS
| Your friend.
|
| STEVE
| Oh, he wasn’t there.
|
| SIMPLE
| I wonder what the girls are going
| to be like.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| I wonder what New York is going to
| be like.
|
| STEVE
| I wonder if we find love.
|
| BOBBERS
| I wonder if… we’re going to get fucked
| up or what.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| That is, if we ever get to New York.
|
| BOBBERS
| Man, it’s like a road trip movie.
| Around the bend, and at the end could
| be horror, or porn, or comedy, or
| horrorifically comedic porn, or action,
| or sci-fi, yeah, a sci-fi road-trip,
| but instead of a land-cruiser it’s
| a space-cruiser.
|
| SIMPLE
| Personally, I’m curious what Bobbers
| thinks New York is going to be like.
|
| BOBBERS
| What else? Seinfeld… and urban jews…
| and they will call me their king!
|
| SIMPLE
| So you’ve gone from black, back to
| Jew?
|
| BOBBERS
| Anything but bland-o-lay extra-white.
| Jesus.
|
| SIMPLE
| (authorative voice)
| Bobbers, please, come to the white
| courtesy phone.
|
| A hazy-smoke fade to white.
|
|
|
| INT. – AIRPORT – DAY
|
| Bobbers is talking into a white courtesy phone. He is in
| a dapper, expensive, business suit.
|
| BOBBERS
| Yes, Mr. Faulkner, on your desk, tomorrow
| morning. Don’t worry.
|
| Bobbers walks over to Simple, Cliff-dog, and Steve.
|
| Simple’s dressed like a naturalistic hippie with a dash of street
| thug. A shirt with pot on it, pants with pot-print, dreds,
| hemp jewelry (a big hemp chain with a big gold hemp leaf on
| it), a big rastafarian hat (with a plant growing out of the
| top) a boombox (constantly playing rap music), and a skateboard
| (with “420” in big gothic letters). He also has a back-pack
| with two-conspicuous tubes coming out of it, both with small
| mouth covering attachments, fans in the back of it are blowing
| loudly.
|
| Cliff-dog is dressed like a tourist in florida. Bermuda
| shorts, tank-top, tourist maps, a walkman with a headset, ugly
| sunglasses, face sunburnt, and a fanny pack. Steve is dressed
| like a new york yuppie. J-crew chinos, ribbed black sweater,
| shiny black leather shoes, expensive watch, cell phone ear-
| piece attached to cell phone in his pocket. (Along with his
| PDA, his beeper, etc.). In his hand is a star-bucks travel
| cup, the other a lit cigarette.
|
| Bobbers stops and looks at
| Steve. Reaches in back pocket, pulls out a black-velvet beret,
| puts it on Steve’s head.
|
| BOBBERS
| Just got off the phone with the boss.
| Now, you sure we’ll be back by tomorrow
| morning at 6 AM right? Or I’ll lose
| my job.
|
| SIMPLE
| Duuude… Chill.
|
| Bobbers looks around him, then looks to where the courtesy
| phone is, he sees his briefcase. Suddenly, some MASKED GUY
| picks it up and takes off quickly.
|
| BOBBERS
| Hey! That’s my briefcase!
|
| Bobbers barrels across the terminal after him. He chases
| him for a while.
|
| BOBBERS
| Hey! Secur—
|
| Before he can finish, a BIG THUG grabs his arm, and a SMALL
| THUG puts a gun to his back.
|
| SMALL THUG
| I wouldn’t finish that phrase if I
| were you.
|
|
|
| EXT. AIRPORT – DAY
|
| Small thug, big thug, and masked guy are all standing outside
| the airport with Bobbers. Masked guy still has his mask on.
| Big thug still holding on to Bobbers. People walk by, but
| pay no notice (as they never do in Bobbers scenario).
|
| SMALL THUG
| Now what could be in this briefcase
| that’s so important that you’d run
| after us and scream out for police,
| like you did, after we took it, from
| you, admittedly, but still. Let’s
| see.
|
| Opens it, gets mad, lets the papers fly out everywhere.
|
| BOBBERS
| Noooo!
|
| BIG THUG
| Where’s the jewels?
|
| SMALL THUG
| Shut-up!
|
| Hits him, turns to Bobbers.
|
| Where’s the jewels?
|
| Turns to Big Thug.
|
| What jewels?
|
| Big thug hits him.
|
| What the hell, why’d you do that?
|
| BIG THUG
| Well, why’d you hit me.
|
| SMALL THUG
| I hit you for being a lunk head.
|
| BIG THUG
| What and lunk heads don’t have feelings?
|
| SMALL THUG
| No! They just have heads full of
| lunk. LUNK GALORE!
|
| BIG THUG
| Why are you shouting at me? What
| makes you think you can treat me like
| this?
|
| MASKED MAN
| He’s right, you can be a little hard
| sometimes.
|
| SMALL THUG
| I’m supposed to be hard. Look I have
| a gun! I’m a criminal! It comes
| with the job!
|
| Masked man turns to Bobbers.
|
| MASKED MAN
| Oh, hey, yeah, I’d take the mask off,
| but you know… Anyway, ignore him.
| I understand you’re scared, but let
| me explain. Now, first of all, we’re
| going to have to take you somewhere
| quiet so we can kill you, just so
| you know.
|
| SMALL THUG
| Why should he know that?
|
| MASKED MAN
| What?
|
| Small thug raises his hand like he’s about to hit him.
|
| MASKED MAN
| Now, don’t you dare hit me. Or so
| help me I will yell so loud that every
| cop in five miles will hear me.
|
| SMALL THUG
| But why?! You’re a criminal too!
|
| MASKED MAN
| I will NOT be hit by any--
|
| SMALL THUG
| Jesus, Christ, are you crazy?
|
| MASKED MAN
| Don’t make me. I will scream.
|
| SMALL THUG
| Alright, alright. Jesus.
|
| Bobbers tries to sneak away, small thug grabs him by his collar
| and pulls him back.
|
| SMALL THUG
| Where do you think your going!
|
| BIG THUG
| Hey!
|
| MASKED MAN
| Yeah, what the hell was that?
|
| SMALL THUG
| What?
|
| The both hit him.
|
| SMALL THUG
| What the fuck!
|
| MASKED MAN
| Why’d you have to be so rough with
| him huh? He’s just trying to get
| away, from you and your… bullying!
|
| SMALL THUG
| He’s trying to get away from us, US,
| do you understand that? Cause WE
| are criminals, and HE is an upstanding
| young gentleman. WE however are ruthless
| killers. HE is an innocent life we’re
| about to take.
|
| MASKED MAN
| That is absolutely no excuse!
|
| BIG THUG
| Yeah, no reason to be so mean to him.
|
| SMALL THUG
| Oh my god!
| (turns to Bobbers)
| Can you believe this.
|
| Bobbers is again trying to leave, Small thug hits him over
| the collar-bone with his gun. He falls. Big thug is just
| in shock.
|
| MASKED MAN
| Hey! What the hell! Do you even
| listen to us? Do our opinions--do
| we!--not matter at all to you?
|
|
|
| INT. – APARTMENT – DAY
|
| Steve interrupts.
|
| STEVE
| Yes, but what happened to me?
|
| BOBBERS
| What?
|
| STEVE
| I’ll tell you.
|
| INT. - AIRPORT – DAY
|
| Steve is with Cliff-dog and Simple, dressed as before.
|
| STEVE
| Okay, first of all, I go here…
|
| He walks behind the gate attendant’s computer terminal, the
| attendant (attractive female) smiles at him.
|
| STEVE
| I’m accessing a proxy IP through this
| terminal, by downloading a program
| that will also disguise both our IPs.
| Now I’m using a file transfer protocol
| to give our GPS, our names, the time,
| and a brief message about the nature
| of our call to the website for the
| CCC. I.e. The center for chronological
| continuity. Who will then send a
| wormhole through this T-1 connection
| and brings us back to when this story
| was following some kind of chronology
| and continuity… Cause anything can
| be done with the internet.
|
| Strikes a key.
|
| INT. APARTMENT – 3:00 AM
|
| All four of them are lying around the apartment asleep. Bobbers
| is asleep on the TV. Simple is on the couch. Cliff dog is
| in the chair, lotus position asleep. Steve is on his side
| on the floor, with a hand on one of the cats.
|
| Bobbers accidentally
| turns on TV, sound of “The Secret Life of Walter Middy” come
| on. Bobbers is about to wake up the others, but he lets them
| sleep, then he gets entranced in the movie. He takes a joint
| out and watches and tries not to laugh, does all the contortions
| but no sound.
|
| He can barely contain himself and eventually
| he lets out a high, long, girlish laugh. Waking up everyone.
| They are all watching.
|
| STEVE
| Oh you got to follow the girl of your
| dreams, it’s the girl of your dreams.
|
| They are all sharing the joint.
|
| SIMPLE
| Hey, what happened?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| When?
|
| SIMPLE
| Everything before now.
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| hmm…
|
| STEVE
| We were going to New York?
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Didn’t we already go?
|
| Bobbers laughs like a school girl.
|
|
| SCENE 2
|
| INT. SOME GUY’S ROOM – NIGHT
|
| Some guy is talking to the camera as if he’s relating a story
| to couple friends in his, during a chill-stoned-out party.
|
| SOME GUY
| Lost in new york, the guys go to a
| drug dealer, after searching for hours.
|
| this guy’s, like, “sure, I got lots,”
| and they’re extatic. he takes them
| back to his place. its obvious this
| kid has been making quite a living
| off weed. He’s got every kind you
| can imagine.
|
| he’s got all kinds.
|
| intercut with a sequence static shots of each 3, then a long
| camera track following the others.
|
| SOME GUY (OS)
| White widow. Skunk. Blueberry.
| And a bunch of ones you’ve never heard
| of.
|
| Cut to Simple, the others are looking on to the varitable
| cornucopia.
|
|
| SIMPLE
| Hey! Only I may talk to the camera/
| audience/you/whatever. First, let’s
| break into song.
|
| Music starts.
|
| BOBBERS
| These are the days
|
| STEVE
| Of red bulls and roaches
|
| CLIFF-DOG
| Every chance we get.
|
| SIMPLE
| We do it our way
|
| DRUG-DEALER
| And you can bet.
|
| BOBBERS
| These days are here to stay
|
| STEVE
| These days of red bulls and roaches.
|